


The Truth of the Hawke Champions

by MoFlame



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-08-07 05:10:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7702009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoFlame/pseuds/MoFlame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My FanFic of Dragon Age 2, where there are two Hawkes- that's right, two. My Warrior FemHawke will be the main character, but Mage MHawke will come into it as her cousin. Also in this version, Bethany and Carver both remain alive. The purpose of this FanFic is to give the game some more substance that I feel it deserves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Anything You Can Do

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to begin at Ostagar, before the Darkspawn invasion. Give a little more insight into life before they fled to Kirkwall.

The vast, decrepit ruins provided cover from enemy sights, but also meant that he had to be quick and agile when navigating what was once the great city of Ostagar. One misstep, and he could be nursing a twisted ankle just when his life depended on it. The lone soldier knew this as he carefully picked his way through the rubble. 

He tried to keep his heavy breathing quiet, and held the long sword at his side steady so that it didn’t bash with the shield strapped across his back. Sweat dripped down his face, and the tunic under his armor clung to his skin, even though there was a light morning frost that had yet to melt from the rising sun. He serpentined back and forth across the smooth, shattered stonework that the swamps and forest had reclaimed, darting through hanging vines anded skidding over moss-covered rocks; never wavering in the same place for very long. After some time, the soldier paused, his jaw shifting back and forth in thought as his eyes scanned his surroundings. 

Suddenly, his eyes locked onto what he was looking for: Two men armored in red-plate steel warily making their way down the dirt path. A smirk briefly flashed across his face, and he slid his shield onto a forearm before drawing his sword. The soldier crouched, waiting until they came within striking distance, and then leaped out from the trees, lashing out with his weapon. Something exploded from the bushes on the other side of the recruits at almost the exact same time, causing the soldier to skid to a halt and barricade himself behind his shield. Keeping low, he jabbed at anything that came close enough for him to hit until three soldiers lay at the ground before his feet. “Holt, Bagar, Furin, you’re out!” shouted a powerful voice from the side of the training field. 

The three beat-up warriors picked up their weapons and limped out of the soldier’s way towards the small crowd looking on from the entrance to the King’s camp. The soldier watched the others go, taking in deep breaths, and then looked among the crowd to see if anyone was still left in the exercise. He could see Avris, the lieutenant in charge of the training sessions, staring with an impassive expression from the top of a rock quarry. Then, as he counted the others, he realized they were all staring behind him at the same instant he realized there was still one person left.

He jumped to the side seconds before he heard the blunted blade slice through the air next to his head. He raised his shield, startled, and whirled to face his attacker. He recognized the young man standing before him as Carver Hawke, one of the more-skilled recruits with messy, jet-black hair and cold blue eyes. The presence of the shield did not deter Carver for very long, however, as the taller man pressed forward to strike again with his long, two-handed sword. The soldier blocked, but was thrown off balance by the strength behind the metal. Carver sidestepped, jamming the soldier on the inside so that his weapon was rendered useless, and then pushed against him with his shoulder to swing his blade in a backwards motion. The sword made solid contact with his shield, and sent it spinning off into the dirt. The soldier fell to his knees as Carver pressed the edge of his weapon against his throat. “You’re dead,” he said evenly. 

Avris approached, sullen as ever with his matching dark eyes and hair contrasting against pale skin, and put his hand on Carver’s broad shoulder. “Well done, Carver,” he said, without smiling. Carver nodded at the praise of his commanding officer, and then withdrew his blade to help his opponent to his feet as the recruits met him with excitement and grudging acceptance. He beamed smugly at them and casually rested his blade on his shoulder. That is, until a female voice called from behind him, “If you had swung your sword in a horizontal arc the first time, you could have had him a lot easier, Brother.” 

Carver clenched his eyes shut as the rest of the recruits went silent. He slowly turned around and opened his eyes to see the familiar young woman with dark blonde hair tied back in a low ponytail. She stood leaning against a tree, and her vibrant blue eyes glinted with teasing rivalry. A two-handed sword identical to Carver’s hung at her back.

“I still won,” he snorted, indignantly. 

The woman shrugged, “Fine. But if you meet someone who actually gives you trouble when you lose the element of surprise, don’t visit me from the Fade.”

“I don’t need-”he started to say, when Avris interrupted. 

“It seems that we have a bit of a challenge,” Avris smiled respectfully at the woman. “Mischieva, would you care to duel your brother so we can see what a fight between two skilled warriors looks like?” 

Mischieva smiled sweetly, “Certainly.” She looked at Carver, “If my brother doesn’t object, that is.” 

Carver scowled. “It will be my pleasure to shut my sister up, for once,” he growled. 

“Excellent,” Avris clapped his hands together as the recruits murmured excitedly and retreated to a safe distance.

Carver nodded towards Mischieva’s attire: simple riding pants, and a dark leather vest over a lighter brown, cotton cotton tunic. “Aren’t you going to put armor on?”

Mischieva unhinged herself from the tree and drew her great sword, the "shink" that reverberated from it clearly indicating that it was not blunted. She leisurely sauntered over, her well-toned, lean body moving fluidly, and shook her head, “It slows you down. And if we’re not going to be seriously wounding each other, I would prefer to maintain my speed.”

Carver glared at her and started ripping off his armor, revealing his own sweat-stained tunic. “If she doesn’t wear it, then neither do I. I can do exactly what you can do, and don’t you forget it.” He threw down the blunted practice sword and reached for his actual one, which an elven paige had scurried to retrieve from the nearby weapon rack. 

Both Hawkes took their positions opposite each other. Mischieva’s ice blue eyes bore into Carver’s paler blue ones, and her wide grin was the perfect opposition of his deep scowl, “Don’t worry, Carver. I never had any doubt to the fact that you were able to bear children.” 

Carver lunged at his sister with a cry of rage. Mischieva diverted the advance easily, parrying and skillfully hopping around his sword. But Carver whirled around and mercilessly launched a series of assaults on her, the sound of metal clashing with metal ringing out across the camp. Carver swung the giant blade in repeated quick motions, causing Mischieva to retreat as she continued to block any shots from directly hitting her. She continued to back-step, until finally the hilt of Carver’s sword connected with Mischieva’s shoulder. She gasped at the blow, and took a few quick steps backwards. Seeing success close at hand, her brother lurched forward in anticipation… Only to catch his foot on a long tree root and fall forwards.

Mischieva twisted to the side, stuck out her foot, and slammed the hilt of her great sword into her brother’s back with all her might. Carver released his weapon to stop his face from planting into the stone. His sword skidded across the rock as he crashed to the ground, echoing his despair in the silence of his defeat.

Mischieva gasped for air, her arms weak from deflecting all of Carver’s strength. Even though she was quite a bit older, her brother was still a lot stronger than she was and had a couple inches of height on her. She went to pick up his sword and then held it out to him, panting, “Nice job. You had me on the ropes for a while.” But Carver refused to look up, let alone look at his sister. 

The other recruits ran up and cheered, speaking in ecstatic voices about her victory. Avris grinned and went up to give her a congratulatory slap on the back. While the others swarmed Mischieva, Carver silently got up and left, nursing his wounded pride. Mischieva watched after him in silence. She waved away the crowd with a polite, “Thank you", and told them to keep up with their training. Before she left, she heard Avris say, “That boy Hawke is good, sure. But his sister is one of the best I’ve ever seen.”

…. 

Carver splashed water onto his face from the basin in his tent, fuming over the most recent events. "Why does everyone like her so much?" He growled out in frustration. "I'm taller, stronger, and better fit to be a soldier than she is. So why does everyone seem to think that she was the better one?" He twisted the fabric of his shirt in his hands, and gritted his teeth. 

“Knock, knock,” came a female voice at the flap of the tent. 

Before Carver could react, Mischieva stepped inside, looking down at an envelope she held in her hand. She glanced up and recoiled, “Carver, put a shirt on!”

“You were lucky that I had any clothes on at all with the way you barge in,” he snapped, crossing his arms.

Mischieva rolled her eyes, and tossed his two-handed blade onto his cot. “You left this when you stormed off.”

Carver took the weapon in his hands and examined it. “If it’s scratched, you’re taking it to the smithy be repaired.”

“It was you who dropped it when you fell.”

“You tripped me,” he shot back.

“I, in fact, was luring you back towards the roots, because I knew that you wouldn’t notice them and get caught up. It’s called strategy,” she said, smugly. 

Carver looked away, “Well, if you’re done bragging about how brilliant you are, why don’t you go find your boyfriend and leave me alone.”

Mischieva’s eyes softened, and she took a step towards her brother. “Carver…” she sighed, “You know that I’m just doing this to keep you safe.”

“I don’t need you to keep me safe anymore!” he groaned, exasperated, “I’m eighteen, and I can look after myself. I don’t need my older sister to take care of me.”

“Then why did you join the King’s army, when you know that I’ve been here for six years already?” she rolled her eyes.

He turned to her. “Because I wasn’t going to stay and farm when I turned eighteen knowing that you had joined the army right when you came of age. I wasn’t going to be upstaged by you. Again. And now I’m still being compared to you even when I’m the best out of the recruits.” 

Mischieva said nothing, silently studying the almost permanent scowl that settled on her brother’s face. Suddenly, she remembered the letter that was in her hand.  
“Carver,” she smiled, “I have something for you.”

“Something yet again to show how perfect you are?” he huffed.

“It’s a gift,” she gritted her teeth, trying to control her frustration, “You know that Father died when you and Bethany were only fifteen. I was twenty-one, so he gave this to me so that I could give it to you when I thought that you were ready.” She handed him the envelope. 

Carver took it gingerly. The seal of the Hawke Family, a hawk with its wings outstretched while holding a sword in each of its talons, was broken but still remained. He opened the letter and read it slowly. When he was done, Carver’s light eyes rose to look at Mischieva’s hopeful face.

“It’s addressed to Ser Maurevar Carver. A templar,” he said softly.

Mischieva nodded. “That was the templar who allowed Father to escape from the Circle of Magi to go and live with Mother. Without him, neither of us would be here. You were named after him.”

Carver was silent. Mischieva also said nothing, letting her brother process. 

Carver folded the letter, gently. “Thank you, Sister. This… Means a lot.” Suddenly he chuckled, “Maybe I should become a templar.”

“Yes, Brother. What a brilliant idea to become a mage hunter when your twin sister is a mage,” she said sarcastically. 

Carver rolled his eyes. “I know that. I was trying to be funny.”

“I can’t tell, since it’s such a rare thing to occur,” she grinned.

“And meanwhile, I can’t get you to stop being sarcastic.”

Mischieva walked up and hugged her brother. He let his arms hang loosely at his sides as she clung to him, but then eventually caved and gave a weak attempt to hug back. 

“Brother, you know I love you,” she relinquished her hold on him, before lightly punching him in the shoulder, “But you need to put a shirt on. Seriously.” 

She left cheerfully, leaving a dumbstruck Carver with the letter.


	2. A Solemn Oath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mischieva dreams of her father.

The door to the little hut in the village of Lothering loomed before Mischieva like a monstrous dragon lying in wait for its next victim. She felt a pit in her stomach as she cautiously pushed open the door. Her younger sister stood before her, her freckles dotting her young face and her black hair tied in pigtails, and silently directed her to a room farther in the back. Mischieva approached the door, which was slightly ajar, and went inside. 

Her father lay in a bed. His black hair had lost its luster, and it crackled as he turned his head to look at her. His blue eyes that were identical to hers gazed at her through the film. They were no longer the bright, spritely eyes that she had always known; they were the eyes of a dying man. 

Mischieva knelt beside her father’s bedside, wordlessly. There was nothing that could be said. But he opened his mouth and managed to choke out the words, “Look after your family, Mischieva. This is what you must do for me.”

“I will, Father,” she promised, as his breath faltered.

….

She opened her eyes and stared at the tent’s ceiling. Her cheeks were wet with tears, and she let them linger for a moment before wiping them away. How long had it been since that day? Nearly four years ago now. And yet she was still haunted by these dreams of her father.

Mischieva had been serving her third year in the army before she had received the letter that her father was sick. She had been given a two-week release to return home, and as she journeyed she remembered all the time she had spent traveling from place-to-place with her parents. He had protected and taught her and her siblings, and was everything to her. When she had reached home and seen him in that helpless state, it nearly broke her. He had told her to protect the family, and she had sworn to him that she would. But she had to return to the army. She had left Carver in charge, and sent her pay home every month. 

When Carver had joined the army, it meant more money. But it also meant that her mother and apostate sister were left alone. They had gotten along fine, but Mischieva swore that as soon as she was relieved of duty after the upcoming war, she would return home to help. 

With a sigh, she got up and tied her hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to think that the game didn't put quite enough emphasis on the pressure that Hawke went through to protect their family. Even if sarcastic Hawke seemed carefree, they had a lot of weight on their shoulders, especially since Leandra seemed like she didn't do all that much.


	3. A Bittersweet Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mischieva prepares for the Battle of Ostagar.

Mischieva sat on an ancient, decrepit log, its black bark creaking under the strain of her weight upon it. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion for a moment, legs tensed in case the timber decided to cave in and send her toppling onto the ground, spilling her soup with it. When the creaking ceased and the log seemed to hold firm, she let herself relax. She then began shoveling spoonfuls of brown broth with into her mouth, chewing the pieces of assorted meats quickly. If the King’s army was known for anything, it was not its cooking; especially when they were camped out in the middle of a swamp. 

With a final swallow, the warrior heaved a great sigh, letting her bowl and spoon drop to the ground beside her. She drew the back of a hand across her mouth and looked about the campsite, squinting slightly against the light of the setting sun. Dinner time was most always jovial for the soldiers, and many of them laughed and made merry around the bonfires that littered the grounds and warmed them. But Mischieva couldn’t also help but notice the air of fear. While most were jolly, the men and women all around still wore their armor and weren’t drinking- they still needed to keep their wits about them. The others who were not conversing or on patrol went off to find their own solitude, praying or doing whatever they had to. Mischieva honestly couldn’t blame them. Even if she preferred not to sulk in her tent, there had been a single man who had returned late the previous night who was the only survivor of his scouting patrol. He had been raving about the darkspawn, the walking nightmares that had plagues the continent of Thedas for over a millennium, and screaming how there was no hope and that they could not possibly defeat the horde that had appeared out of the Korcari Wilds near Ostagar. The healers had quickly given him dreamwine to silence him, but the damage had been done, and a cold, stark depression had befallen the campgrounds. 

Mischieva shuddered. She had only fought darkspawn a couple of times, more so recently, and yet she thought that she would never quite get used to killing them. Especially so knowing that they used to be humans, elves, and dwarves. They had been regular people who had been dragged below the earth into the Deep Roads and tainted by evil, twisting into disgusting, bloodthirsty abominations of nature. They supposedly weren’t supposed to come to the surface in more than stray handfuls except for in times of a Blight, but yet here they were in large numbers. King Cailan refused to call it a Blight, since the last was more than 400 years ago, but even still, he had called his banners and the small, elusive band of Ferelden Grey Wardens dedicated to hunting darkspawn and stopping Blights to assemble here at Ostagar. 

“Hey Missy, have you heard the news?” said a voice next to her, breaking her out of her thoughts. 

Mischieva smiled and turned her head when she recognized Darrian’s voice. The young man sat next to her with an expression of pure enthusiasm, sloshing soup all around. “Define news. If you figured out what the meat was in the stew, I don’t want to know.” 

“Oh don’t worry, I don’t want to know that either,” he chuckled nervously, examining the meat with a spoon. Then he dropped it back in the bowl, seeming to remember that he had asked her a question first. “But I saw three Grey Warden recruits set out into the Wilds with Alistair!” He grinned, looking akin to a child speaking of their favorite knights of legend.

Missy raised her eyebrow and smiled warmly at him, watching his face light up and his bright green eyes sparkle. “We’ve already had a few Grey Wardens crawling around here,” she humored him, “Why are they any different?”

Darrian ruffled shaggy, brown hair out of his eyes. “It’s because- Never mind. There’s… actually something more important that I wanted to ask you tonight.”

“Oh?” She placed her head on Darrian’s shoulder. “And I thought that you just came over here for the pleasure of my company,” she smirked. 

She felt his cheeks raise as his lips turned up in a smile, and he placed a kiss the top of her head, “I did. And I’ve given a lot of thought to exactly how much happiness your company brings me.” He suddenly placed a hand under her chin to raise her face to look at him, and took one of her hands with his own. Mischieva was surprised to find how intently he was staring at her, and she felt her heartbeat quicken. Darrian took a shaky breath and started, “Missy, you and I have been together for a long time. I know that your mother has been pushing for you to find a husband since you’re almost twenty-four now. And… If we make it through this, I want to be that man to love and take care of you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Moisture started to fill the blue in Mischieva’s eyes, and she asked, “Are you asking me to…”

Darrian nodded, “Yes, Mischieva. I’m asking you to marry me.”

Mischieva nodded vigorously, and practically tackled Darrian as she hugged him tightly to her. He hugged her back, laughing at her reaction. “Maker, I am the luckiest man alive to have someone like you choose me,” he breathed into her hair. 

She was about to reply, when a shadow suddenly loomed over them. “Am I interrupting a touchy-feely moment?” Carver’s voice groaned.  
Missy looked up at him and wiped the tears her face, beaming, “Looks like you’ll be the head of the Hawke house, after all, Carver! Darrian just asked me to marry him!”

Carver’s mouth dropped. “He what?” His tone was that of incredulity, instead of joyed surprise. 

Oblivious to the response, Darrian jumped to his feet and heartily hugged him. “And we’ll be brother-in-laws!”

Carver’s jaw still hadn’t ascended. “B-but I was going to ask Peaches to marry me right when the war was over! It’s not fair! Now everyone is going to say that I copied you!”

Mischieva instantly stopped smiling, and stood up to face him. “Carver, would you please just be happy for me, for once in your life?” She snapped. 

“I’m sorry, did you want me to jump for joy every time something happens to you?” He sneered, “Because it seems to me that something great happens to you every waking second of your existence. And forgive me if that’s just a tad too much happy for me!”

As he spoke, the Hawke siblings gradually got closer to each other until they were nose to nose, practically growling. Darrian stood to the side awkwardly. He lifted a finger, “Should I…”

“Stay out of it!” they both shouted in unison. 

“I swear, Brother, I’ve put up with a lot from you, but this…” Before Mischieva could get further, a flaming arrow illuminated the sky: The signal.

Everyone dropped what he or she had been doing as commanding officers barked orders. All rage forgotten, Mischieva shot a worried look at her brother. He didn’t seem to notice as he swiftly turned to hurry off and join his regiment. Darrian quickly grabbed Missy to turn her towards him, and he held her face in his hands, caressing her cheek with his thumb. “Everything will be okay, I promise. I love you.” He gave her a reassuring smile and kissed her deeply. As he rushed to the armory, she gazed after him with a sinking feeling in her gut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what you're all thinking- this love interest is not as angsty as Fenris or Anders. Not to worry, I can assume you all know what's going to happen to him. It's canon that Hawke is 23/24 at the start of DA2. I figure that with a person as priceless as them, they can't have been single all that time. 
> 
> I also just wanted to throw brief mentions of the Warden, and exactly how close they were to each other when all this went down. I always just thought it was hilarious that two different protagonists could be in the same place at the same time at key moments in history. 
> 
> Also Peaches. Because Carver would try to marry a milkmaid with that name.


	4. Ostagar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of Ostagar.

The army was lined up in formation before ruins. Mischieva stood, nearly shaking, and fumbled as she tried to tie her gauntlets. She let out a grunt of frustration as her fingers slipped once more. She didn’t know why she was so anxious. She could see Darrian a few lines away, and he looked over at her every once and a while to give her a nod and a smile. Carver was right next to her. He didn’t look particularly excited about being positioned next to his sister, but she was glad that she could keep an eye on him. Her eyes found Avris, and they shared a nod of respect. 

But something was putting her off. It was the same feeling she would get if it were too quiet. But it wasn’t quiet. Voices and commands could be heard even from a distance. The constant barks of the Ash Warriors’ mabari hounds were an annoyance and a comfort, as well. But something was wrong. She closed her eyes and took a deep inhale, listening apprehensively, and ignored the light rain that pattered on her face.

Then she knew it. Aside from the men and the dogs, the ever-buzzing creatures of the Wilds were mute. No sound came from the trees. She realized that they had all fled. 

She turned to Carver and whispered worriedly, “Carver, I need you to stay close to me. Please.” 

Normally, her brother would have protested, but he seemed to sense the desperation within his sister, and he simply nodded. 

Conversation ceased as a priestess in tan and red Chantry robes walked solemnly through the ranks, carrying a lantern of incense and murmuring the Chant of Light. Soon after, King Cailan appeared in golden armor, followed by the Grey Warden Commander, Duncan. Both men looked stunning. The King was worry-free with his adorned metal and flowing, blonde hair. Duncan, however, wore a solemn expression above his pure silver armor, his black hair slicked back in a ponytail. Blood was rushing in Missy’s ears, and she didn’t even hear the King as he rallied the soldiers. Her heart pounded in her breast, and suddenly stopped cold.

An unnatural red glow appeared behind the trees across the grassy field. At first, it looked like a thousand fireflies, and then grew into what appeared to be a wild forest fire. Hundreds of them moved silently from the woods. The very air around them seemed to grow colder, despite the numerous torches they carried.   
Mischieva’s dark blue eyes widened as she drew her sword.

….

“Darrian!” she gave a hoarse scream, waking up with a start, before coughing and gasping for air. Something was on top of her, crushing her lungs. Panicking, she clawed her way out from under the obstruction. 

Sunlight blinded her momentarily as she heaved the limp bodies from herself. She closed her eyes and took a moment to move all her appendages. Everything functioned properly, although a lot of movement at once caused her to cringe, and she could hear nothing but flies buzzing and crows cawing around her. Finally, opened her eyes.

She was sitting in the dirt surrounded by corpses. Some were darkspawn, but most were her allies. She was covered in blood, but whether the blood was hers or someone else’s was yet to be determined. When she reached up, she found her hair was tangled and matted. She stood, shakily, and her armor hung in disheveled pieces around her. 

Mischieva stared at the destruction before her. Ashes from fires burned dimly in the morning light. Trees were felled and flags flew tattered in the breeze. Bodies of dismembered soldiers lay scattered by the thousands, being devoured by all manners of scavengers. Her King was stripped naked and hanging crucified on a darkspawn construction. Mischieva inhaled sharply, and then keeled over and wretched on the bloodstained ground. She felt it her duty to construct a funeral pyre for her fallen king, but she needed to get her bearings before doing anything. Red flashed in her memory.

“Carver…” she croaked. She swallowed the bile in her throat, and stood bolt upright before spinning around in a circle, ignoring the blaring pain in her head. “Carver!” she shouted, momentarily forgetting the danger.

The image of Carver swinging his blade through the darkspawn formed in her mind. Then she remembered the two ballistae, each aimed in different directions. This was followed by pain as she remembered being struck by something and blacking out. Two Grey Wardens were supposed to light a signal fire on the top of the Tower of Ishal; then King Cailan’s general was supposed to charge in and flank the Horde. She had seen the flames of the brazier in the distance- so why didn’t he arrive? 

But that didn’t matter now- she had to find Carver. She walked in a wide circle, desperately searching the faces of the dead, and hoping that he had enough sense to get out of there while he could. But she knew her brother, and knew he wouldn’t have run away for the world. Mischieva’s shoulders sagged in defeat, as she looked in despair at the sky. He couldn’t die like this. Not after what she had sacrificed. The glare from the sun caused her to look away after a couple seconds, and her gaze landed on a tree that had halfway tipped over. Mischieva narrowed her eyes and made out a small shape.

Her eyes widened and she gasped. Mischieva ran over, slipping in the bloody muck. She dropped to her knees by the willow and rolled over the body of her brother.   
“Carver…” she breathed, tears spilling out over her flushed cheeks. “Carver, get up!”

Mischieva removed his breastplate and put her ear against his wide chest. She didn’t breathe while she listened for the impossible. As she was about to exhale the breath she had been holding… she heard it. It was very faint, but she heard the life in her brother.

She pulled her head back and pounded on his chest. “Breathe, dammit!” she yelled at him. She took a breath, plugged his nose, and physically put the oxygen into his lungs. She did this several times with no success. What little heartbeat he had when Missy got there was almost gone.

Shaking her head, Mischieva placed both of her hands face down on his bare chest with her fingers splayed out. She clenched her eyes shut and focused all her energy on bringing her brother back. Mischieva felt something dormant stir inside of her; something that was never supposed to be hers. 

Her palms glowed a soft green color, and she stared intently at his face. But he still did not stir. Her knees grew weak as she realized that her efforts had been for nothing. “No… Nononono… You can’t do this to me!” Suddenly, Carver’s pale blue eyes snapped open and he jerked forward with a gasp.

“You’re alive! Oh thank the Maker!” Missy cried out. 

“I… am… alive…” Carver panted for breath.

Her eyes stung as a different kind of tears welled. “I was so afraid that I was going to lose you.”

“You aren’t… getting rid of me… that easily… Sister,” he managed a weak smile.

Mischieva reached forward and hugged her brother as much as she could without smothering him. This time, he hugged back. Then he managed to peak around her to look at the destruction of the battlefield. “Maker… What the hell happened?”

Mischieva pushed back and stood, cringing at the soreness that had suddenly taken hold of her muscles, “Loghain seemed to think that it would be funny if he decided not to show up for the party.” 

“Sounds like something that you would do,” he grunted, reaching his hand up for assistance.

Mischieva winced at his comment and ignored his hand. “We have to move,” she said.

Carver rolled his eyes and stood up heavily. “We can’t just desert. We have to look for survivors,” her brother protested. 

“And what do you expect to tell the wounded? ‘Oh hey, you’re alive and we’ve been defeated. So now go and sit on this rock in the open until we find more people.’ No, we have to find a suitable camp. Besides… There isn’t exactly an army to desert, now is there? Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Dormant mage powers in a warrior Hawke?   
> Ballistae pointed in different directions?   
> Where is Darrian?!
> 
> Find out next time! ....maybe


	5. Chasing Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carver and Mischieva run for Lothering.

Carver sat with his back against a tree, his eyes half closed. The great sword he had scavenged from among the wreckage lay at his feet. He and his sister were hidden deep in the forest, away from the battlefield. Mischieva and he had tried to find refuge somewhere closer to where survivors might be, but they had soon discovered that the darkspawn had begun to eat the carnage of the fallen soldiers. They immediately moved farther away. 

Mischieva now crouched at the bank of a stream, ridding her face of the blood and dirt. Her hair hung loosely around her face as she stared blankly at her reflection. Her mirror image stared back at her with a sullen expression. 

“We should look for Darrian, first,” Carver finally broke the heavy silence.

“What?” Mischieva turned sharply to look at him, “I thought that you hated him.”

“He’s my sister’s fiancé. Of course I wouldn’t hate him. Not as much as I normally would, anyway.”

Mischieva stood up slowly, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. “Thank you, Carver, but… that won’t be necessary.”

Carver narrowed his eyes at her and leaned forwards. “What are you saying?”

She let out a deep sigh and closed her eyes. “I’m saying that Darrian is dead. I saw… a pike. I saw a pike go through his body.” Her body began to gently quiver. “I ran to him…. Then I went to look for you… I mean, I found you, and tried… I mean… There was a shield… I didn’t see…” Her body began to shake more violently, and tears leaked out from her tightly shut eyelids onto her cheeks. 

Mischieva jumped as she suddenly felt her brother’s arms envelope her and hold her close. “Missy… I’m so sorry.”

“He’s dead….” She squeaked out, choking the sobs back down her throat. “He’s gone, and I’ll never get him back.” 

When there was simply a silence that came from Carver, she moved her arms to grip him tightly around his torso. “Just don’t leave me. Promise that you’ll never leave me.”

Another heavy silence followed, until he let out a soft gasp and his body stiffened. “Mischieva.”

She looked up at him, suddenly on alert. “What is it?”

He was staring over her, his mouth slightly agape in horror. “We were the last line of defense before the darkspawn made for the cities. Where’s the nearest city?”

Missy felt her breath catch. “Lothering…”

All exhaustion and sorrow forgotten, they pushed from each other and fumbled for the meager weapons and supplied they had gathered. Quickly shoving them into packs or strapping them to their backs, they broke into a run as they tore through the forest. Brother and sister ran over hill and rock until they were out of the ruins. They came upon roads, but took to the trees for fear of being stopped. Branches lashed out at their faces and clothing, threatening to slow their pace.  
Mischieva felt as if her legs would collapse from under her, but she pushed the soreness from her mind and kept pumping her arms. She couldn’t stop now. She couldn’t stop when the entire darkspawn army was heading straight for her mother and sister. 

They pushed north through the night and the next day, only stopping for a short rest when they were about to collapse from exhaustion, until they saw a steep hill. They clambered up it until they could see below. Mischieva spotted the small village of Lothering where she knew her family would be beginning to settle down for nightfall.

Carver didn’t look for home; he knew where it was already. He was looking in the opposite direction, and searching for the tiny, dark cloud that was becoming increasingly larger.

He turned to his sister, “We passed the horde, but they’re approaching.” 

She nodded and they practically flew down the hill in the direction of Lothering. They skirted around the perimeter so that they didn’t have to go through the templar who guarded the gate, and slid under the back wooden fence. They burst into the Hawke cottage. 

Their mother, Leandra, dropped a plate at the sight of the two, sending shards flying. Her graying hair was tied back and she wore a thin, dirty apron over well-worn clothing. “Carver? Mischieva?” she gasped. Bethany Hawke, Carver’s fraternal twin, stepped gingerly out from around the corner, trying to avoid pieces of the shattered plate. She was no longer a little girl with freckles, but instead a slender, young woman. 

Leandra and Bethany’s matching pairs of hazel eyes widened as Missy and Carver stood there, gasping for air. Suddenly, everyone started to talk at once.

“What in the world-” Leandra began.

“Maker’s breathe-” Bethany stated.

“Mother, Bethany-” Carver started.

Mischieva shook her head and went over to her mother. She took the middle-aged woman by the shoulders. “Mother, we need to leave. Now. Grab the bags and fill them only with essentials.”

Urgency was not something new to the Hawke family. They had been on the run all their lives because of their father, and even though he had passed, they still had a plan in case they needed to leave quickly. “Is it the templars?” Bethany asked, the panic clear in her voice.

Carver shook his head. “Worse. Darkspawn.”

Their mother gasped. “What? I thought that you were fighting them in the Wilds?”

Mischieva was lacing up a dark brown bracer over a black, long-sleeved shirt. “We were. It was a disaster. Now they are coming here. We ran here as fast as we could.”

Leandra’s eyes filled with dread as she continued to fill up the burlap sacks. Carver finished pulling on his boots and started throwing things into his own pack. He had changed into a white, sleeveless shirt with an orange collar. “We have to leave everything behind again,” he said, bitterly.

“It’s better than being eaten by darkspawn,” Missy pointed out, “And at least we have more weapons here.” She lifted a shining steel broadsword from a trunk and tossed the bent one she had been carrying to the side. 

Bethany tied a red bandanna around her neck and adjusted the chainmail under her white blouse. It splayed out like a skirt over her blue pants and knee-high boots. She pulled a metal staff from under the floorboards. “Will magic help?” 

“Anything will help at this point,” her sister replied, pulling her hair back up.

Her brother lifted his and Leandra’s bags over his shoulders. “Are we ready?”

They nodded as his twin and Mischieva shouldered the packs, and they all hurried outside. Mischieva paused as her family headed for the gate. She glanced back at the village where helpless refugees were resting. She couldn’t leave them without warning. Bethany stopped and turned around. “Sister? Are you coming?”

“Go without me for a moment. I’ll catch up.”

Leandra and Bethany hesitated, but Carver pulled them along. Pulling her bag tight around her, Missy took off for the bell tower. The sun was low in the sky and the dark cloud could have been mistaken as shadows of nightfall. But she knew better. She yanked on the rope with all her might, and the bell chimes vibrated the inside of her skull- yet she didn’t stop. When people had started to gather, she pointed at the approaching horde, which they could now hardly be mistaken as a shadow.

Women screamed and men shouted. In an instant, utter chaos had consumed the small farming village. Mischieva struggled to squeeze her way through the mass of people to the exit. If she didn’t move faster, she would get too far behind and her family would wait for her until the darkspawn were upon them. She panicked and her blue eyes searched for something- anything.

She saw a cart being loaded with supplies. She leaped onto it and hauled herself onto the roof of a cottage, almost getting hit by a pitchfork on the way up. She slipped along the tops of houses, shattering shingles in her wake. Finally, she jumped down and through the gate.

She scrambled into the hills where her family anxiously awaited her. “Did you pull the warning bell?” her mother asked.

Mischieva nodded and jerked her chin at the path ahead, too tired for a proper reply. Leandra paid no attention to her command and hugged her. “That’s my little girl,” she cooed, “Always looking out for others.” 

Carver snorted and Bethany shot a dirty look at him. Missy looked strangled until Leandra let go. She quickly recomposed herself and nodded to her mother. “We have to go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking forever for this update. School started and I've been kinda busy.


	6. Shields and Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hawke family meets Aveline and Wesley.

The Hawke family jogged along the path through the hills, tripping over their own feet in their exhausted haste. Thick, black smoke rose from the village behind them, and the snarls of the darkspawn were getting closer as the shrieks of the townsfolk died out. Mischieva stayed behind her family, urging them forward whenever they began to tire.

Leandra finally dropped to her knees in the dirt, her breathing ragged. The twins stopped short and rushed back to her. Mischieva stooped beside her mother, taking her arm, and looked up at Bethany. “She needs to rest a moment. Give us some time.” Her younger sister nodded, and raised one hand towards the path behind them. The air around her fingers began to simmer until waves of heat erupted from her palm. The area in between the sides of the hill shimmered and burst into flame as a wall of fire formed to barricade the path. It crackled menacingly, but would not last long.

“We don’t have much time, Mother,” Bethany bit her lip, glancing worriedly at her magical ward. 

Leandra nodded, easing her weight onto Mischieva, “I’m sorry, children. I’m not as young as I used to be.” 

Bethany suddenly turned on her brother. “Why didn’t we run sooner? If we had, this wouldn’t have happened!”

Carver’s eyes widened, and he took a small step back. “Don’t look at me! Mischieva and I have been running since Ostagar while you were sitting at home combing your pretty, little head!”

“Arguing won’t help matters,” Missy snapped, glaring sternly up at her siblings, “We’re here now and we have to work together to get out of this mess.”

Their mother grunted, and shakily stood, Mischieva rising with her. “Please listen to your sister. The darkspawn shall be upon us any moment.”

Bethany looked away from her siblings and quietly nodded. Carver eventually nodded, as well. “Let’s get on with it, then,” he said, simply.

The Hawke family once again set upon the path. It had become eerily quiet, and for a time, they could hear nothing but their breath. Soon the path split between two rock faces that extended up a few feet above their heads, blocking view from either side. Missy held her arm out to halt the others. 

“Why have we stopped?” Carver groaned. 

She didn’t drop her arm, her eyes warily scanning the walls. “I heard something.”

“I’d be nervous if I didn’t hear anything,” Carver growled. He pushed past his sister. “I’m going.”

But he had just taken a few paces forward when a horrible screech emanated from the rocks above them. Carver looked up just in time to see half a dozen darkspawn drop down onto the path. He raised his sword to block a serrated edge. 

Mischieva and Bethany charged forward to help him, while Leandra scrambled to the side to remain out of sight. Mischieva and Carver hacked through the bodies that jumped down, and frozen icicles and blasts of fire flew from Bethany’s staff. It was over just as quickly as it had begun.

They sheathed their weapons, and Mischieva turned to face her brother. “I told you to wait,” she hissed, “I told you that I had heard something. And what did you do? You almost got yourself killed!”

Carver stared back at her indignantly. “What if I want to be the one to give orders?”

“Then do something smart, for once in your life. You can’t give orders that pertain to the survival of your family if you’re going off of impulse.” 

He remained silent, and Mischieva bitterly trudged up the hill ahead of them. Leandra stood up and wiped her hands on her rags as she followed with Bethany. At the top of the hill, the mage stopped them, once again. “Wait. Where are we going?”

Her siblings turned to look at her incredulously. “Away from the darkspawn. Where else?” Carver asked.

“But then where do we go? After we escape we’ll have no place to live. We have to figure out a plan or we’ll just wander aimlessly!” 

Mischieva looked back at one of the dead darkspawn. Its black tongue lolled out of its yellow mouth, and its dead, white eyes gazed lifelessly into the sky. “I’m all for wandering aimlessly if it means that we aimlessly wander away from the darkspawn,” she sighed. Then she put her hand on Bethany’s shoulder. “I get what you’re saying. But my main concern is sticking together and getting out of here alive.”

Their was staring at them, thoughtfully. “I know,” she said, “We can go to Kirkwall.” 

“Kirkwall? That’s a long way, Mother.” Carver protested.

“And there are a lot of templars in Kirkwall,” Bethany warned. 

Their mother shook her head. “What choice do we have? Besides, my brother- your uncle- is in Kirkwall. We have the Amell estate. We’ll be safe.”

Mischieva looked at the twins. Kirkwall was all the way in the Free Marches, and they would need to find passage on a ship to take them across the sea. But their mother was right- they had family there who could take them in. It was worth a shot and they didn’t have very much time to decide. “Very well. We’ll go to Kirkwall.”

“We’ll need to head to Gwaren and take ship,” Bethany echoed Missy’s thoughts. 

“I just want to get out of here,” Carver huffed, turning towards the path ahead. 

They moved swiftly along the path, renewed with a new sense of direction. Mischieva lead them up onto a ledge that overlooked a small clearing of rock. “We need to look ahead before we can move on,” she explained when she caught an agitated look from her brother.

They crouched behind some boulders and peered out to look below them. It was as they feared: A dozen darkspawn leaped excitedly around something. No, it was someone. A templar thrust his shield out so that it deflected the blows. He reached around with his sword, slicing into a darkspawn that had lingered too close. 

“Should we help?” Leandra asked, fearfully.

Mischieva shook her head. They would wait to see if the templar pulled through. She would not risk her or her siblings’ lives if it meant saving someone who would hunt her sister later in life. 

That was when the templar made a fatal error. He turned too far to jab at a darkspawn. Another leapt onto his back and slashed him. The templar fell backwards against the rock, wincing as the metal bit into his flesh. The rest of the darkspawn greedily gathered around to finish him. 

One raised its axe for the blow- when a blur of red tackled it to the ground. Mischieva leaned forward as she saw a woman in brown leather start viciously   
punching the darkspawn in the face. “You shall not have him!” she screeched.

Her fiery, red hair whipped to one side as she grabbed her longsword and sliced its neck open. She made her way back to the templar, picking up his shield as she went. She crouched next to him and tried to barricade them from the advancing darkspawn. 

Now another life was in danger, and they couldn’t leave this woman to die. Mischieva drew her blade and jumped, swinging her blade to cut down multiple darkspawn at once. Taken by surprise, the darkspawn scattered. Bethany and Carver leaped down after their older sister to join the fight, as well.   
Missy drew the darkspawn away from the woman and the templar while Carver shepherded the rest in, swinging wildly. Once the darkspawn were in a close circle, the two bolted out of range just as Bethany sent forth a huge fireball from thin air. Flaming appendages flew to all corners of the clearing. 

Mischieva called to her mother to come down, and Carver went to help her as she slid down the rock face. Then she turned back to the two they had saved, who were making their way towards them. The templar reached them first. He had a look of relief on his face, but then his eyes hardened as they looked at Bethany. 

He pointed a finger at her. “Apostate! The Order dictates that you must be brought to justice!” 

Bethany scoffed, but her feet shifted uncomfortably. “Well, the Maker surely has a sense of humor. We just saved your life.”

The ginger haired woman quickly followed her companion, now wearing the templar shield. “Wesley…” She softly chastised the templar. 

The templar, Wesley, didn’t listen. “The darkspawn are clear in their intentions. But you never know with a mage.” He took a couple of steps towards Bethany. “The Order dictates…”

Mischieva stepped threateningly between the templar and her sister. Her unnatural blue eyes unnerved the knight, and he faltered. Carver stepped forward, as well. “If you have a problem with our sister, you have a problem with us,” he said firmly. 

The woman stepped forward and put a hand on the templar’s shoulder. “Wesley, please. They saved us. The Maker understands.”

He nodded and hesitantly stepped back. Mischieva relaxed her stance and Carver crossed his arms, but they stayed where they were. The woman then set her green gaze on them. “Thank you for stepping in,” she nodded, “I am Aveline Vallen, and this is my husband, Ser Wesley. We can go back to hating each other when we’re out of range of the horde.” 

Mischieva nodded in return at her. “I am Mischieva Hawke. This is my brother and sister, Carver and Bethany, and my mother, Leandra. What are you two doing out here? I figured all the templars had left with the rest of the Chantry.”

“I originally had business in Denerim,” Wesley replied, “When I heard that Ostagar had fallen, I had to come.” He cast a glance at Aveline.

“I was at Ostagar,” the woman explained, “I barely got away with my life.”

Carver uncrossed his arms in surprise. “You were at Ostagar, too? I thought that we were the only ones who had escaped.”

Aveline scrutinized the two of them. “I remember you now. Third company under Captain Varel?” 

“That was us,” Mischieva confirmed. “So you saw how the army was vanquished.”

Aveline shook her head, “We fell to the betrayal of our own, not the power of the darkspawn. Without that advantage, they would not have taken us.”

“That is true. But we can discuss it later. I need to know if I can trust Wesley around my sister.”

Wesley nodded. “My duty can wait. For now, our allegiance is with you.”

The Hawke family visibly relaxed. “How bad is your wound?” Missy asked.

Wesley rotated his shoulders. “My sword arm is definitely gone, healing or no.”

Aveline looked at him, lovingly. “Then you’ll have mine, as always.”

Mischieva felt a stab of longing in her side, but then shook her head. “Then we should continue.” She began forwards, when Aveline called, “North is cut off. We almost walked straight into the center of the horde.”

The Hawke family's faces dropped. “The Wilds are to the south. That’s no way out,” Carver looked desperately at Missy.

Mischieva looked at the faces around her. They all seemed to be waiting on her to pick a direction. “We have no choice,” she decided, “It’s either south or the darkspawn. We go south.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I didn't even realize it's been like 3 months since my last update. The semester got really hectic. I apologize.


	7. Dragon Miracles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all seems hopeless, until the group gets rescued by an unlikely figure.

The group had not made very much ground before more darkspawn blocked the path. Mischieva, Aveline, and the twins continued to carve a safe path for Leandra and Wesley all the way up the hillside, although it seemed like there was no end to them. 

“They’re catching up,” Bethany gasped, as she turned shorter darkspawn, a Hurlock, to ice. Carver pierced the frozen darkspawn with the tip of his sword, and it shattered into a dozen pieces. 

Mischieva gritted her teeth, barely acknowledging the distress from her sister, and trudged forwards to lead the group further and further into the unknown. She knew they had to get into the trees. From there they could make a safe path to Gwaren. But they were running out of time. The horde had eaten its way through Lothering much faster than she had expected, and it was consuming the hillside more and more every time she checked. 

Eventually, they made it to the edge of the canyon. Missy could see the roads leading to the forest and roads to the other towns. The rest of the group shared a collected sigh of relief, but Mischieva’s body tensed more. Even though she could pick out which path would take them to the shipyard in Gwaren, it was way too exposed on the top. And they weren’t out of danger, yet.

She picked up her pace and urged the others towards the downward slope. Suddenly, Missy found her footsteps shaking her body more violently than usual. She stopped, but the shaking continued. The others felt it, as well, and stopped with her. “Maker…” Mischieva breathed. Something was coming up the path. Something big. 

Mischieva dove to the side, pushing her sister off the path. A gigantic darkspawn ogre trampled the spot where they had been only moments before. Mischieva had never seen anything like it. It was dark brown with scabs and scars oozing pus. Its face was very small and scrunched together with a million tiny teeth in its slavering mouth. But the most fearsome feature was the bloodstained horns on its head: Enormous, black horns that twisted and gnarled like the branches of trees. One wouldn’t last long if it got in the way of those.

The ogre turned to look at the frightened group, threw back its head, and gave a saliva-spitting roar. It charged straight for Carver and Leandra. 

“Get away from her!” Carver shouted. He raised his blade against the monstrosity.

“Carver! No!” Missy screamed.

Just then, Aveline stepped in and grabbed Leandra. Carver saw out of the corner of his eye, and rolled out of the way as the ogre stampeded past. Mischieva had been momentarily paralyzed, but now that Carver was safe, she pushed her legs to run forwards. “Mother, Wesley,” she ordered, “Get back. We’ll keep it at bay.”

She didn’t have time to check to see if they did as she asked, as the ogre finally turned around, and more darkspawn came running onto the hill. Mischieva ran to go and distract the ogre away from the two that were hiding. Aveline joined her, while the twins fought off the advancing darkspawn. The two warriors danced around the ogre, confusing it. It shook its head and swung blindly at them; they rolled out of the way before taking small stabs at the thing. 

The ogre became enraged, and started to charge in a large circle like a bull. Mischieva realized that she had to put an end to it or risk her family getting trampled. She braced herself and charged straight at the thing, dodging under its flailing arms. Aveline saw what needed to be done and swung her blade into the back of its knees. The ogre’s legs buckled, and it dropped to the ground. Mischieva jumped up to use its knee to step up onto its chest, and as it looked at her with its black eyes, she drove her blade into the center of its forehead. It let out a cry of distress and swung its head back and forth, as Missy struggled to hold on to the hilt of her sword. Then it fell silent and limp, crashing into the dirt. 

Mischieva planted her feet on its chest and dislodged her sword. She hopped off and looked as her siblings finished off the last of the darkspawn. They stared at the dead ogre and then back at their sister in amazement. Aveline nodded at her. “Thanks for that,” Missy panted at the redhead. 

But Aveline waved it off. “I did what anyone could do. But not many people can find the courage to mount an ogre and kill it like that.”

Leandra and Wesley came out of their hiding spot. They didn’t seem injured, although Wesley looked extremely pale. “Are you alright to keep going?” Mischieva asked. When the templar nodded, she said, “Alright. We’ve lost a lot of time. We need to hurry before-“

“Flames!” Aveline’s curse cut Missy off. “We’re too late!”

Mischieva’s heart sank in her chest as hundreds of darkspawn swarmed the paths around them, blocking any escape. They leaped around and hissed, knowing their prey was cornered.

“There’s no end to them!” Bethany cried.

“We’ll never get through,” Carver agreed, solemnly, although he lifted his blade. 

“There has to be a way!” But even Mischieva could hear the hope fading from her voice. There were hundreds, maybe thousands of them. And her mother and Wesley were unprotected. They would need a miracle to escape.

As if her thoughts were read, a horrible screech sounded above them. Mischieva almost dropped her sword in her attempt to cover their ears. She looked over her shoulder at the cliff above them, and what looked like a large boulder suddenly shook and collapsed. Giant wings unfurled, revealing a dark purple dragon. It screamed again and leaped into the air. Mischieva and her entourage dove flat on their bellies, as the dragon skimmed low to the ground, breathing fire. 

The darkspawn panicked and scattered, desperately trying to escape the wicked flames. A few unlucky ones were picked up in the jaws of the dragon and taken high into the air before being dropped to their death with a sickening splatter of armor and bones. The beast dove back down and landed in the center of the path, kicking up dust and shooting purple flames out at the fleeing darkspawn. Its tail lashed from side to side, taking out darkspawn and hillside, alike. 

Once most of the darkspawn were dead or fled, the dragon picked up one of the remaining darkspawn in its talons, crushing it. Then, curiously, it stood on its hide legs and was enveloped in a yellow light. The light and dust picked up in a whirlwind around the creature, and its outline seemed to shrink. Their vision cleared, and Mischieva was amazed to find the dragon gone. She blinked the grit out of her eyes, rubbing them in disbelief.

In the place of the dragon was an old woman striding confidently through the burning fire. She was draped in a purple dress with black-feathered shoulders and spiked boots. She had long, white hair, and some of it was tied with purple ribbon in makeshift horns on the top of her head. In her hand was the foot of a dead darkspawn, which dragged behind her. 

The woman dropped the darkspawn but continued to make her way towards the group. Her gold eyes never left Mischieva’s blue ones as Missy stood up to meet her before the woman got too close. Carver and Bethany flanked her, while the others stayed low. 

When Mischieva and her siblings stood face to face with the old woman, the newcomer scanned them over before stating, “Well, well. What have we here? It used to be we never got visitors to the Wilds, but now they seem to arrive in hordes!” She smiled wryly at her joke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is where the differences start to happen. Carver and Bethany are both alive, yay! For now anyway :p
> 
> From here, I'm going to write about some of their travels to Kirkwall and then some of their time spent working under Athenril (I chose the smuggler route for my Hawke). I will avoid writing about the trivial quests, and more about what happens during the time skips and other important interactions I felt the game was lacking..


	8. Deal of Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They make a deal to escape. Thus, the title.

“Nice trick,” Mischieva replied, “Where did you learn how to turn into a dragon?” Her tone was light, but her sword was still in her hand. 

“Perhaps I am a dragon.” There was no hint of humor in the older woman’s voice, but neither was there fury. It was very calm, soothing almost, with a more serious undertone. 

Mischieva shifted slightly, unsure how to respond. The smile reappeared on the newcomer’s face, “If so, count yourselves lucky. The smell of burning darkspawn does nothing for the appetite. By the way, if you wish to flee the darkspawn, you should know that you are heading in the wrong direction.” With that, she turned around and began to saunter away as if taking a lovely stroll through a meadow, and not a gorge littered with corpses. 

Missy’s mouth dropped open, but she found no words. The woman continued to walk away until Carver called after her, “You can’t just leave us here!” 

The woman stopped without turning around. “And why can’t I? I came here because I saw the most curious sight: A mighty ogre, slain. Who could have performed such a feat? But now my curiosity is sated, and you are safe… For the moment.” She turned her head to look at them, “Is that not enough?”   
Mischieva sighed in defeat and brushed back her hair that had come loose during the fighting. “We need to get to safety,” she said, “And we won’t be able to get through the darkspawn on our own.”

The woman looked down and fixed her gauntlets. “The darkspawn are everywhere, or soon will be. Where is it you plan on going, hmm?” 

Before Mischieva could decide to reply or not, Bethany spoke up, “We’re going to Kirkwall- in the Free Marches.” 

The old woman’s eyes widened, as both Missy and Carver tensed. “Kirkwall? My, my, that’s quite the voyage. And your king will not miss you?”

There was a moment as realization passed through the group that not everyone might have known about the king’s death. Mischieva looked at the ground. “King Cailan is dead. He was betrayed on the battlefield. There is nothing for me or my family in Ferelden.”

“Hurtled into the chaos, they fight- and the world will shake before them,” the stranger voiced to no one in particular, seeming to look past them. 

The group shifted uncomfortably at the words. Everyone remained silent, until the woman turned to the side and scratched her chin, continuing to muse, “Is it fate or chance? I can never decide…” She turned back to them, smiling. “It appears that fortune smiles on us both today, child. I may be able to help you, yet.”

Mischieva almost smirked. “Just like that?” she asked. “There must be a catch.”

The woman suddenly burst out laughing and Mischieva jumped. “There’s always a catch,” she practically yelled at Missy. “Life is a catch! I suggest you catch it while you can.”

As the woman continued to cackle, Bethany leaned over and whispered to her siblings, “Maybe we shouldn’t trust her. We don’t even know what she is.”

“I know what she is,” Aveline spoke up from where she crouched by her husband. “She’s a Witch of the Wilds- a Chasind legend about Witches that steal children.”

“Bah! As if I had nothing better to do,” the woman retorted. 

Mischieva eyed the woman warily. Bethany looked interested. “You’re an apostate?” she asked. 

The woman nodded. “Just like you.”

“But they call you a witch,” Mischieva said.

The woman simply shrugged. “Some call me that. My names also include Flemeth or Asha’ballanar.” She chuckled. “Even ‘an old hag who talks too much’. Does it matter?   
This is what I offer: I’ll get your group past the horde in exchange for you delivering something to a place not far from Kirkwall. Would you do this for a ‘Witch of the Wilds’?”

The group turned to Mischieva. “How much trouble will this delivery be, exactly?” She asked.

“About as much trouble as me saving your lives not five minutes ago.”

Mischieva smiled and crossed her arms. “You got me there. But we need to know details. That’s a lot to ask with so little instruction given.”

The witch stared intently at her. “It won’t be any danger for one so capable to handle.”

“If it’s not any trouble, why not just go yourself?”

She looked fondly at Mischieva for a moment before saying, “I have… an appointment to keep. It is far more convenient this way. Happily, you aren’t without your own needs.”

Mischieva still looked unsure. But Aveline spoke up, “Wesley is greatly injured. He won’t survive the darkspawn” In response, the templar coughed heavily. 

“We don’t really have a choice,” Carver voiced what everyone was thinking. 

“We never do,” the witch added, solemnly. 

Mischieva nodded at the witch. “Agreed. We’ll deliver your package. Just get us out of here.”

The witch smiled at Mischieva and held out her hand. In her palm was a small, black amulet. “Take this,” she said, “And head to the mountains just outside the city of Kirkwall. You will find a clan of migrating Dalish elves. Go to their Keeper, Marethari, and give this to her. Do as she asks, and any debt between you and me is paid in full.” 

Missy cautiously stepped forwards and took the amulet. “Can we leave now?” She asked, a little impatiently, carefully wrapping the amulet and putting it into her bag.

The witch didn’t seem to hear her, instead turning towards Aveline. “Before I take you anywhere,” she said, “We have one thing that we need to take care of.” 

Mischieva gasped. In the span of a few minutes, Wesley had become even paler, and his veins had turned black and were bulging under his translucent skin. His eyes were filmed over and he was having difficulty breathing as he struggled against an unseen force.

Carver and Bethany moved out of the way, taking Leandra to the side, as the Mischieva followed the witch over to them. 

Aveline jumped up, startled. “No! Not Wesley! He’s fine!” She pleaded.

The witch almost looked sympathetic. “What has been done to your man is already in his blood.”

“You lie!” she cried, drawing her blade.

“She’s right, Aveline,” Wesley croaked from behind her, “I can feel the corruption inside me.”

“You mean darkspawn blood can actually kill a person?” Mischieva asked. She had been taught to not let darkspawn blood get on her, but she had never actually seen the effects of its poisonous properties. 

Wesley nodded. “It only happens if it gets into your veins or you ingest it. There was so much blood already; it must have leaked into my wound.”

Aveline grasped his arm. “How much time does he have?” she asked the witch.

“Not long now, if I am any judge,” she replied.

Mischieva bent down beside the templar. “There must be something we can do.”

“The only cure I know of is to become a Grey Warden. Unfortunately, only other Wardens know how to create them,” the witch replied.

Aveline threw her hands up and exclaimed, “And they all died at Ostagar!”

The old woman smirked. “Not all. But the last are now beyond your reach.”

Wesley coughed and looked pitifully up at Aveline. “Aveline… Please.”

Aveline shook her head and took his hand. “Please, Wesley. You can’t ask me to do this.”

“The corruption… is a slow death… I can’t…”

Aveline put her head in her hands. Mischieva felt a familiar pit in her stomach. She put her hand on Aveline’s shoulder. “It’s up to you,” she said gently, “He’s your husband. We cannot decide his fate.”

Aveline looked up at her with tears in her emerald eyes. She nodded solemnly. Her eyes fell back on her dying husband and their gaze met for a painfully long moment. 

Ser Wesley handed her his knife. “Be strong, my love,” he told her. 

Aveline took the dagger with both hands and raised it above his chest. She closed her eyes and brought it down, cutting into his heart. Wesley drew in a single breath; and died. Aveline looked away, tears running down her face. 

They let her have a few moments, before Mischieva hesitantly prompted, “I am incredibly sorry. But we have to go.” The other woman nodded and slowly stood up. Flemeth stood by her. “Without end,” she said, “There can be no beginning.”

The witch turned and walked towards the descending path, gesturing for them to follow. She spoke to them without turning. “It gets no easier. Your struggles have only just begun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, if you guys wanna give me comments about how I'm doing, that would be much appreciated :)


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